She is exposed in a way that goes beyond skin, beyond the simple fact of her body being visible, because what they’ve captured isn’t just flesh—it’s intimacy, it’s the raw, unguarded way she gives herself to me, the way she lets me see her, feel her, hold her in those moments where the rest of the world ceases to exist.
And now it’s out there.
Consumed.
Judged.
Owned by strangers who have no right.
Something dark and territorial rises fast and vicious in my chest, a possessiveness I don’t even try to suppress, because she is mine in every way that matters, not in ownership but in devotion, in the way she chose me, in the way she chooses me, again and again, even after everything.
But the anger fractures almost as quickly as it forms, because beneath it sits something quieter, more complicated.
She wanted that moment.
She wanted me.
Out there, under the open sky, with nothing between us and the world but distance and height and the illusion of privacy, she chose to let go, to feel, to take something back after everything that’s been stolen from her.
And I would give her that a thousand times over.
I would give her anything.
My gaze drifts down to her sleeping face, to the softness that replaces the fear when she’s like this, when her guard is down and her body finally allows her rest, and the rage in me reshapes, sharpens, redirects.
Because this—this right here—is what matters.
Not the images.
Not the headlines that will follow.
Not the whispers or the speculation or the inevitable storm that’s about to hit.
What matters is that she sleeps without tears on her face, that her body is warm and safe against mine, that for a few hours at least, the ghosts didn’t win.
My thumb hovers over the screen for a second before I lock it, setting the phone back down with quiet precision.
Whatever this is, whatever fallout is coming, I’ll deal with it.
I always do.
Can’t argue for privacy when out in the open…
But right now, in this fragile, fleeting pocket of peace, there is only her, only us, and I tighten my hold on her just slightly, pressing my lips to her hair again as a silent vow settles deep in my bones.
No one takes from her again.
Not her body.
Not her mind.
Not a single fucking piece of her.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Seraphina
Dynasty – MIIA
